


Distressed Princess

by suneye



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Father's Day, Fluff, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-17
Updated: 2019-06-17
Packaged: 2020-05-13 06:21:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 923
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19245583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/suneye/pseuds/suneye
Summary: "We roasted marshmallows. Clary got one stuck in her hair and and Jocelyn had to cut it out. Clary cried, like, the whole way home because she thought she looked like a boy. But you told her that she was still beautiful, and that you would always love her."





	Distressed Princess

**Author's Note:**

> happy father's day to luke garroway and luke garroway ONLY
> 
> (warnings for brief mentions of food and the tones of the two parts of this short fic not matching at all lmao)

“ _ I haaaaaate it _ !” Clary screams, tears still spilling steadily from big green eyes. “I hate it, I hate it, I HATE IT!” She crosses her arms across her chest and stomps her foot on the ground, as if that will somehow reverse the fates.

Jocelyn sighs impatiently. The non-stop crying from the campsite through the car ride and during the entirety of the impromptu haircut has drained her. “Oh, stop,” she says, stuffing her scissors back into the bathroom drawer and ushering Clary back into the kitchen. “It’s just a bit of hair, honey.”

“No!” Clary’s hands come up to clutch at her cropped hair. “I look like a boy!”

“No, you don’t.”

“Yes, I do! I’m gonna look like a boy. I’m gonna look so ugly!”

“Hey!” Simon mutters, voice muffled by the sandwich he’s been eating as he watched the whole ordeal play out like a very sad movie.

Clary pays him no mind. “Mom, I don’t wanna look like a boy!”

“You’re don’t look like a boy,” Jocelyn says again. “And I’m sorry, Clary, but you were the one who got that marshmallow stuck in your hair. There’s nothing we can do about it now. Don’t worry, it’ll grow back soon.”

That does absolutely nothing to soothe Clary, who just scrunches up her face and begins to sob in earnest once more. Simon puts his sandwich down on the counter, hops off the chair, and runs over to give her a hug. Clary lets him, but still doesn’t seem comforted. Jocelyn looks desperately at Luke. He nods and makes his way over to crouch down in front of the kids.

He taps Clary on the shoulder and she looks up at him with watery, bloodshot eyes. How she still has any tears left is beyond Luke. “Why all the tears, kiddo?”

“My h-hair,” Clary half-screams, half-hiccups. “It’s t-too short. It’s gonna l-look all ugly and- and everyone’s gonna laugh at me and-”

“Well, that’s just not true,” Luke interrupts, feeling a wail building up in Clary. “I think your hair looks great. Besides, short hair, long hair, doesn’t matter, you’re still the prettiest girl in the world.” When she  _ still  _ looks unconvinced, he turns to Jocelyn. “Joss, isn’t she the prettiest girl in the world?”

Jocely, halfway through downing her third full glass of water, looks up and nods. “The prettiest.”

“What do you think, Simon?” Luke asks.

“You’re like a princess!” Simon says to Clary, hugging her tighter.

Clary sniffles and pouts. “ _ Liars _ .”

“ _ Manners _ , Clary,” Luke says. “Alright, c’mere.” He scoops her up out of Simon’s arms and into his own, and walks them back over to the bathroom. He points at their reflection in the mirror. “Look at that beautiful princess with the super cool haircut.”

“I just see two boys,” Clary says, and crosses her arms again.

“Oh yeah? Well,  _ I _ see myself and the sweetest, coolest,  _ prettiest  _ girl in the world, who I will always love.”

Clary sniffles again, thinks for a moment, cocks her head to the side to study her reflection better. “Even if her hair is super short and makes her look like a boy?”

“Even if her hair was green and had birds living in it.”

Clary laughs at that, and Luke can feel the tension seeping out of Jocelyn halfway across the loft. Clary wipes at her eyes and her nose and turns to face Luke.

“Fine,” she says. Then looks around to make sure Jocelyn’s not close, lowers her voice, and whispers, “But if anyone’s mean to me because of it, I’m telling them my dad’s a policeman and will put them in jail. You can do that, right?”

Luke stifles a grin. “Let’s talk about the legality of that tomorrow.”

They nod seriously at each other for a moment before joining the others back in the kitchen. The kids finish their snacks and Luke and Jocelyn get them ready for bed. It isn’t until long after Clary’s tucked in and dozing off, Simon sleeping on the mattress at the foot of her bed with three of her stuffed animals clutched tightly in his arms, that Luke realizes what she called him.

*

The funny thing is, he never brings it up, not with her and not with anyone else. It seems to be a one-time thing, a slip in the midst of her exhaustion from problems that seemed so big back then.

There never seems to be any confusion between the two of them of what their relationship is. She’s his daughter. He’s her father. Sometimes more than other times. But it hardly ever comes through in words. Not until he hears that she’s in danger and decides he doesn’t care who risks their life, so long as she’s safe. Not until she’s eighteen and going through things he can’t begin to understand and she’s begging him not to leave her. And soon after it becomes more and more common to just say it, without thinking:

_ “I’m just here to support my daughter.” _

_ “It’s okay, it’s my dad!” _

_ “I don’t care if he’s ‘ _ the  _ Angel’, that son of a bitch is not getting away with what he’s done to my daughter!” _

_ “Dad, you coming to Taki’s with us?” _

And still he doesn’t bring that first instance. Hell, he doesn’t bring up  _ any  _ of the instances. There is no point. There is no need to point out that the sky is blue, and there is no need to point out that Clary Fairchild is and always has been Luke Garroway’s daughter.


End file.
